


I'll Lead You and You'll Keep Me Going

by LadyPaige



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Season/Series 01, Slade and Oliver get off the Island together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-02-15 22:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2245278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyPaige/pseuds/LadyPaige
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Slade goes with Oliver to save Yao Fei, in failing, the two head back and make it in time for the plane.</p><p>Two years later, Slade finds himself in Starling city to give the Queen some bad news. But instead, finds that he could do more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mz_valkyrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mz_valkyrie/gifts).



> Very late birthday gift for mz_valkyrie, from last year!
> 
> Yeah, I'm back.  
> I will one day finish Little One. But, for now. Let's give this a go.

2009

Slade sighed from the shadows as he watched the youngest Queen stumble from her group of friends with a drunken cheer. She would get a taxi home, not even trying to hide her nightly adventure. She wanted the world to see, for her mother to see. Like her brother had.

Slade felt the clench in his chest as he thought about Oliver. They had met over two years ago. He had been dead for six months. Slade had searched, going as far as tracking down Anatoly, and almost losing an eye for his troubles.

Everything they had become, gone in his drug fuelled rage. His only saving grace being that he had been too messed up to remember it.

Slade followed as Thea walked down the street, as he did every night. Looking out for the stubborn fourteen year old. He huffed as she almost fell face first into a ATM.

She really was wasted.

The ASIS agent looked around for a crossing, braking out into a jog as he spotted one that was currently full of people. As he made it to the other side, it put him only a few steps away from the Queen sibling but he was not concerned. He would hang back and disappear once more.

Just another night making sure the girl did not walk into traffic.

Slade blinked when she ducked out of sight, panic filling his chest.

He kept moving, his eyes on stilts. Until he heard it. Retching.

There, in he alleyway, she stood, bent over, vomit at her feet. Specks of which were on her shoes, toes, legs, and a little in her hair. All was made clear but the dark red colour. Red wine, if he had to guess. Something that was not meant to be gulped.

* * *

2008

Slade stood straight, looking totally unaffected by the bullet in his arm, and the miles they had run to get back in time. He spoke with the pilot of the plane that would get the two men off this hellish island.

Oliver stood behind him, as Slade told the man that Fyers had ordered them to accompany the plane back to China, to personally report to the Englishman's boss. Slade spoke so calmly and with such confidence that Oliver almost believed the Aussie himself.

Oliver owned so much to him. He had fed him, saved him from a land-mine and armed soldiers, he had even come with him to save Yao Fei, killing Billy when Oliver got caught. Now the mountain of a man was badly wounded, bleeding and still protecting his arse.

However, the look in Slade's eyes when Oliver had defended them against a guard with a gun, said that he had impressed him. Barely but still.

The plane was made for cargo, giving it a large belly with seats along its side, red straps to hold the passengers in place. The back of the plane was opened up so that the supplies could be removed. Afterwards, Slade and Olive stepped inside, Slade held onto the younger man for support.

This was how Oliver found himself in a large metal plane, to his left was a long bag with Slade's twin stainless steel ronin katana in their crossedsheath, along with a few hand guns, knifes and an automatic rifle Ollie had picked while escaping Fyers. Slade sat a seat away, resting his head against the frame which jumped and jiggled far more than any commercial plane should, wreaking any chance he could get to fall asleep. The two of them had taken off their balaclavas, the room almost pitch black in the low blinking lighting. Even if it was cold, being able to breath felt so much better.

Slade sighed, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand, his elbow to his knee.

"Thank you," Oliver suddenly said, "For coming with me."

"It's fine, kid," Slade mumbled.

Oliver looked down to his black leather gloved hands, the pair he had taken from a dead man. "I can't believe he didn't come with us."

"Yao Fei did fought for a long time. They must have something on him," Slade said, his low coarse tone sounding even more husky. "We'll save him."

Oliver blinked. "We?"

"ASIS and I."

"Hey! I want to help. I just don't know how- but I want to."

"You could do what you do best. Take cover and let me handle it," Slade grumbled. "You really want to go back there?"

"Yes," Oliver said without a thought. "Of course."

Slade cocked a brow. "Now, I know you have a sense of danger. So, you really are that stupid."

"Thanks."

Slade smirked. "Somehow when you tell your family that you're alive, I don't think they would take to the idea of you leaving again for God only knows how long."

Oliver frowned. The older man was right. "Then I won't tell them yet."

Slade turned back to the blonde.

"You're right. And I need to help Yao Fei, I owe him my life."

Slade continued to smirk. "Alright," he said with a disbelieving look. "But you follow my lead, so if I tell you that you're not coming back with me, you don't go. You're not trained."

"Will you train me?"

Slade shrugged, flinching as he pulled at his wound. "Might as well," he mumbled. He leant his head back against the metal wall.

"We're going to be here for a few hours. You should get some sleep."

"Easier said than done," Slade grumbled. The pain and Oliver's constant need to talk was starting to get to him.

"Rest your head on my lap."

Slade gave him a funny look, which the man could not really see but he could certainly imagine it.

"It's either that, do what you're doing or the floor," Oliver shifted on the wooden seat which was making his bum sore. This was also an option for Slade, but if his arse was uncomfortable, Oliver did not hold high hopes for Slade's skull.

Slade sighed, before unbuckling his belts so he could move around. "Thanks," he moved down to his side slowly, resting his head on the blonde's thighs.

"It's fine."

Oliver looked down to the man. He had done well by suggesting something for the Aussie's comfort, but he did not know what to say after that. The man had his head in his lap, two sets of belts locked to help hold him in place in case of turbulences, and Oliver had placed his hand on Slade's bicep to support him.

Ollie put his head back and allowed himself to relax, knowing he could not fall asleep and would not for their own safety. It was the first time that Oliver was doing something to protect Slade, a man who even in his injured state could fight and kill anyone who threatened them.

Oliver was lost in thought for a few minuets, thinking about what he was suppose to say to his mother and sister. About his father's death, Fyers and his men, and his return to the Island. All the hunger, pain and scars. He decided to put it all off for now, till the time he had to make that call.

The blonde glanced down to find that Slade was sound asleep, his breathing slow, long black eyelashes resting on his cheeks. Slade had always gone to sleep after Oliver and woke up before him, so he had yet to see how much of a light sleeper the man was but Oliver did not want to take any risks.

Oliver admired the Australian, for the first time in the week Oliver had known him. The man looked peaceful.

He smiled. Slade deserved to sleep.

* * *

2008

"Here."

Thea jerked as she heard the deep rough voice beside her. She would have moved but her mind was too fogged. Her movements slowed like she was engulfed in water. She strayed still, her arms and forehead slumped against the wall. Back aching from her three inch high heels.

She lifted her eyes, stopping on a Coca-cola can before moving up towards a tanned man in a long black coat. His hair was black, eyes almost the same shade. That was all she could really make sense off with her body bobbing about.

"It will settle your stomach."

Thea raised a brow. "It could be spiked."

"It's not opened, and we're not hidden," Slade motioned to the people walking by, and that was only one way out. "I'd look pretty suspicious dragging you out of here."

"You're not helping your case."

"You're underage and drunk."

"What makes you say that?'

"I'm not stupid."

Thea cracked a smiled with her purple stained lips. She groaned she moved to stand straight, before taking the can from the stranger. Her body relaxed as she heard the hiss of the metal parting. She took a gulp, and another. Her belly felt fuller, the need to throw up passing a little.

"I'll admit," she pointed the can at the man. "I'm not looking my best," she groaned, resting the side of her head on the against the wall "I feel like crap."

"You look like crap."

"Thanks," Thea leered. "What's your name?"

"Slade. Yourself?"

Her shoulders shook with laugh. "Thea."

"Feel up to getting a taxi home?"

Thea blinked slowly. "Yeah. I guess," she pushed herself off the wall. "You're Australian?"

"Just figure that out?" Slade fell into step with the girl as they moved from the alley.

"I'm cold, never wearing these shoes again, and this can is the only thing keep me from throwing up."

"I wouldn't look down."

It was not a pretty site.

"Thanks for the heartfelt speech," she grumbled. "If I could I would be taking them off."

The cold stone floor was not exactly appetising.

"I would give you a piggyback. But your skirt is too short."

"Asshole," Thea very nearly walked off when Slade suddenly stopped at a tourist stand. She watched, her mind still slow, as he gave the man a few notes, before taking a large maroon hoodie from the stand.

"Here," Slade held it out for her, yet at the same time leading her with it, so that the two stopped next to the stand, out of the way of passers by.

Thea looked at the Aussie for a few seconds, which was a lot longer in her state, before taking the hoodie with a mumbled thanks. She pulled it on with minimal difficultly, in her option. Vaguely aware of his eyes watching her, and the out stretched arm, in case she were to fall over.

* * *

"It was interesting meeting you," Thea spoke softly as they reached the line of vehicles.

"And you," Slade allowed a small smile. He tilted his head to the leading car in the queue. "Let's get you home," he said, pulling out his wallet.

"I can pay," she crossed her arms.

"I'm a gentleman," he smirked, passing the driving a wad upon hearing his amount. "You can owe me one."

Thea rolled her eyes but got inside the car all the same.

She looked out the window as the car took off, watching the man staining on the pavement, his hand raised in a small wave.

She found her hand raised just above the seal of the glass, waving back.

Spade smiled as he watched the youngest Queen leave. He froze in place as he caught a smell he recognised.

Since the first time he followed Thea, to keep an eye on her as she was going out at a late hour, he had noticed three people; two men and a woman. Sometimes they walked as a pair, others times, apart. But they were everywhere she went. Slade had hoped it was the press but they stayed too far away, hid too well.

Slade fanned a yawn, turning his head to the side, to where he felt the presence. He rubbed at his eyes, but looked out from between his fingers. He saw one of the group members, the woman. Who yawned.

Not a clear science by any means. But that was not what was important right now.

Slade slipped a hand into his pockets as he started to walk. He slowed his breathing, examined his surroundings, and tried to recall what part of the city he was in.


	2. Chapter Two

2009

Slade Wilson, joined the army at sixteen, a fact that was only found out after his first tour, and later became something no one had knowledge of. He had left to join the navy at age twenty. He traveled around the world, becoming a known specified long distance sharp shooter, a sniper, at twenty five.

In his late twenties, he was transferred to the Australian secret intelligence service.

In his thirties, he had learn the art of sword fighting, and found his preferred weapon in paired blades. He then became partners and taught this art to Bishop, another ASIS agent. It was the codename of the man who would become his closest friend, Billy.

He lived a life hidden in shadows, fighting battles no one knew had happened. Till he met Adeline. They had been in the army together, and she had since risen to the ranks of captain. They had married the following year.

One failed mission. One leaked document. Had lead to Slade's son, Joe, being kidnapped. His throat had been cut. He was alive but permanently mute.

Adeline blamed Slade. Not that he could really blame her for thinking that. She had been such a strong women, but he had clearly not known her as well as he thought.

She killed herself that spring. With nothing left but a note, of which spoke of the irony of the time of year.

Her humour had always been dry.

Slade stayed with his son as much as possible, before he had to start work again. He swore the boy that he would never be alone, staying in military care on his deep cover missions. Till he went missing in 2006.

In short; Slade Wilson was a man shaped by his skills in stealth and sabotage. He knew how to hide, and he knew how to draw another out. And this team were in for more than they expected.

If they were any good, they would seen him around before. If they were very good, they would know that he was following her too. With any luck, their ego would disguise the Aussie as nothing more than paparazzi. And his stunt tonight, making himself known, would have thrown them off.

Slade made his route home, choosing to cut through one of the many warehouse districts.

"Can I help you with something?" Slade smirked, turning to the empty darkness. Which, sure enough, was then filled by the group.

* * *

2008

The plane landed with relative ease, Slade awoke as the pilot warned them over the radio that they were about to land.

They had done it, they were off the Island. Now, all they had to do was leave the plane and they were home free.

Slade and Oliver covered their faces. Oliver was just readying the strap of the bag onto his shoulder when one of the crew came down to say that they were just opening the back.

Slade watched how the man stayed behind them and how he had this look in his eye. Slade had been an ASIS agent for over ten years, he had worked in the field long enough to know what it looked like when someone was hiding something.

They had been caught.

"You set?" Slade asked Oliver.

Ollie looked at him in confusion.

"Just do what you do best," Slade said. He held his hand out.

Oliver's eyes went wide. He gulped down the fear and reached for the bag, when Slade did not protest, he handed it to the him.

"You make a good pack mule," Slade commented, before he turned and threw the bag to the guard, who caught it, allowing it to drop from his hands to grab the gun from his belt. Slade ran forward as the man was distracted, and punched him in the gut, then slid behind the man, wrapping an arm across his neck. He was going to break it when he saw Oliver standing there, watching him.

His blue eyes were shining with fear and yet they were darkened. He was becoming accustom to death. His mind facing an internal struggle of acceptance and survival, or fighting against what he knew was wrong, and death. Slade did not know which one of those reasons stopped him but it did. He choked the man, within a few seconds he was out cold but very much still alive. Slade let the man fall to the floor.

"My guess is that they will be waiting for us when we get out," Slade said, grabbing the man's gun, followed by rooting his pockets for spare ammo. "I'll need you to provide some cover fire. There was only one guard, assuming the pilot isn't a merc."

Oliver nodded, he jerked back when Slade offered him the gun but took it.

Slade grabbed his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "You'll be fine kid. Only way anyone is going to kill you is if they kill me first."

Oliver shrugged. "I'm not worried," his face said it was water off a duck's back. His eyes said he was scared but had no other choice.

* * *

The landing strip looked to be in the middle of no where, to keep the operation secret. The two men set off into the thick forest, it was a rather unwanted reminder of the forests on the island. It took many hours of traveling, with multiple pit stops as Oliver was not used to walking so much and Slade was wounded.

They arrived at what Slade believed to be an old shaolin temple. It was made up of dark red and grey stone, the window paper covers, and the doors had completely rotted away. And the slate covered roof -which lowered down and pointed up at the ends, just like the films that Oliver had seen- was over took by crawling plants, that also clung to the walls. It was like the plane but less exposed and hopefully warmer at night.

"Alright," Slade sat down at the top of the stone stairs leading to the building, having just checked to make sure the temple empty. "We'll need to get water," he pointed up to the dark clouds, before removing his Kevlar vest. "Which is looking pretty promising. We can use the water bottles I nicked from the pilot. We'll also need food but first, you need to get this damn thing out of me."

Oliver looked over to Slade from where he stood at the door way, spotting the bullet wound as the Aussie removed his grey button up shirt with a hiss.

"Oh. That."

"Yeah. That," Slade snorted.

Oliver had not seen Slade without his shirt before. Somehow, wearing only a black vest, the man looked even more buff. His broad shoulders and muscular back, his arms were thicker than Oliver's calves. The guy was a freaking body builder. Most of the time, Oliver felt like a fluffy Pomeranian, something small and fragile, being carried around by a wolf, something wild that could kill him if he got annoyed. Maybe a dingo, seemed more fitting.

"How exactly?"

"We'll start a fire, sterilise my knife with the heat and some water. Then you dig it out," Slade stated with his hand.

"Oh," Oliver slapped his hip. "Great. Yeah, I'll just do that. With a knife with animal and human blood all over it."

"I have a knife for shaving, you'll use that. I also have one for skinny and the rest are a free for all."

Oliver sighed. "I'll go gather some wood."

"Has to be dry."

"I know!" Oliver called over his shoulder as we walked away.

* * *

Detective Lance over looked the scene.

Three dead; two men, one women. From what forensics could tell, one of the men had his neck snapped, it had been skilfully done, definitely by someone with experience. The women had been hit in the throat then shot in the chest with her own gun. Even if it had not been jammed between her ribs, the silencer would have hid the sound. The last man had been killed last. They could tell by the way he had been killed. His head slammed into the wall of one of the factories until he was nothing but a bloodied husk.

They had all been well armed, and their identities were still unknown.

Everything about this was nothing like he had seen before. It was down right suspicious. Like there was something he was not seeing.

"So, where did this man go?"

Lance made his way over to his partner, Hilton. Listening to his talk to a food vender.

"This guy walked out the alley," the middle age man, "He threw something in that bin," he pointed over to one of the waste disposal bins; a large metal box used by the nearby construction workers, to throw away their wreckage.

Hilton glanced over to the surrounded officers and nodded. "If you remember anything else, call nine, one, one. Have a safe journey home."

Hilton made his way to Lance as the civilian was lead away. "Our guy threw away shell casings. They got a few shots off. We've searched the area but can't find the bullets.

"Unless they hit."

"Then there's more bodies that we don't know about. Either way, all the bullets are gone. Except for one," Hilton pulled open his jacket, taking out the evidence from an inner pocket. "It was found under the guy who had his head caved in."

Lance frowned. "It looks like it hit a wall," the metal was bend and wrinkled. "I take it that this is our victim's blood?"

"Yeah. We're not that lucky. And something tells me that this is not going to be an easy case."

"I can tell as much already."

* * *

Slade had honestly never been to a coffee shop. But Mirakuru or not, being shot was crippling. And he needed caffeine and a place to sit down, even if the prices made him squint. He had been here enough times when he was following Thea, to know that it served good coffee.

And he knew the difference between ordering a latte or cappuccino, the latter had more coffee and the milk was thicker, like cream. But what the hell was a flat white? When did that happen?

At any rate, mirakuru worked with adrenaline, keeping him moving in peek condition while still fighting, and like the chemical, that kept his body from healing so he could focus more on fighting. Mirakuru held him in place, but more like he was frozen in time then just not bleeding. Then, when the moment of calm came, his wounds would heal, the bullets being pushed out as his body fixed itself.

Adrenaline resulted in a crash of energy, but was always there to give another shot. But mirakuru built energy constantly. The effects could change with his mood, but alternately messing with his mind and sending him into overdrive. Something he had learnt to control for the most part. But as of right now, he would much prefer the manic hyperactivity compared with groggy movements, and a depressive mood.

"Long night?"

Slade's eyes flew open from behind his cupped hand. "I grew up outside the city," he met the bright blue eyes of Thea Queen. "Much quieter," He held a hand out to the spare seat opposite him.

Thea smiled, setting herself down on the simple wooden dinning chair, the padding worn thin but soft.

"You're out early?"

"It's one in the afternoon."

"Early for the state you were in," Slade took a sip of his coffee.

"Mom wanted a day out with her boytoy."

"So, you legged it."

"I legged it," Thea laughed. "I love your accent."

"If I could curtsy sitting down, I would."

Thea frowned. "What's that?"

Slade waved away the matter. "Never mind. I take it you're not on your way to church."

Thea was a little confused, till she remembered it was Sunday. "Not since I was christened. You?"

"When my son was christened. He cried. I used it as an excuse to leave the sermon. As did his grandfather and Godfather."

Thea laughed again. "That's so sweet. How old is he?"

"Six. Staying back home till I'm done here."

"You're here for work or..."

"I'm navy. I came to deliver some bad news."

"Oh," she looked down to her hands. "I see."

Slade hummed.

He had thought about this for a long time. Was it right for the remains of the Queen family to know of the hell Oliver went through, even when he chose to go back? To fight. To protect others. Even without Slade's own guilt for allowing him. Or was never knowing his fate better?

He had made his mind up long ago, he knew. He would not tell the family. But he could not just leave them. Not now.

"I'll get you a drink," Slade offered, standing from his seat. "What do you want?"

"Flat white."

She was worse than Oliver.


	3. Chapter Three

2009

A coffee shared, and a small chat later, and Slade had convinced Thea to have her day out with her mother. Which is how he found himself walking to the mall with a take away coffee and a fourteen, going on fifteen year old girl.

"Mixtures?" Slade frowned.

"And let me guess. You have the spirt, straight, in a big glass, on the rocks."

"It's called a tumbler. And only Americans say on the rocks."

"I am American," Thea pointed out, before taking a sip of her drink.

"My deepest sympathies."

She smacked his bicep with the back of her hand. Humming her argument as her mouth was full of coffee. She gulped it down.

"So, what do you drink?"

"Larger. Cider. Red wine, if it's dry."

"I drink rosá."

Slade grimaced.

"With lemonade."

"If it has ice, and is in a tall glass, I will not speak with you again."

Thea laughed. "Just kidding. Thought that would get you. I've been to enough fancy parties to know a few things about wine."

Slade smirked. "I did wonder. Only red wine vomit looks like tar. An odd choice for a young girl."

"Thanks for the reminder," Thea groaned.

The Australian's expression dropped when caught the sight of the blonde curls of the smartly dressed Moria Queen.

"You see your mum anywhere?"

Thea looked ahead and nodded dully. "I guess this is goodbye."

Slade shrugged. "I'll be around for a few more days. Might run into each other."

"Maybe I could buy you a coffee this time."

"I'm due a lot of back logged pay. I wouldn't worry about it," Slade glanced down, looking into her baby blues. "Fine," he grumbled.

Thea grinned.

She walked from him, grasping his forearm for a second as she stepped moved, her fingers slipping away. Then she turned, a smile across her lips as she waved over her shoulder.

Slade just tilted his chin up, the corners of his lips perking.

He watched Thea meet with her mother and the man standing with her, watched them exchange greetings...then watched a guy in a red hoodie ran up and steal Moira's bag.

He huffed and started to jog forth.

* * *

2008

One bullet removed, an arm bandaged, having to swallow his own sick, and then cracking a Cast Away joke, later. Oliver went out hunting with Slade. The Aussie had killed a rather large rabbit with one of his throwing knifes and Oliver skinned it, both to help out and because Slade would have to use his right arm, which would only aggravate the wound. Something he had already done by striking their prey.

After Slade finished his meal -rather slowly, the pain must have affected his appetite- he slumped forward, sighing at the heat of the fire. Oliver did not say anything. The man had his pride.

"We should stay here tomorrow too, set off after that."

"Where?" Oliver asked, holding his hands out in the rain to clean them. The two had collected all the water they could and were drinking it like crazy to rehydrate themselves, till the point where a sip would go right through them.

"Nearest town, to get a map."

"What about a phone? For ASIS?"

"Too risky. We don't know if Fyers' men are still looking for us but thanks to Wintergreen, they know all my contact numbers, so they can wire tap the calls. Saying over the phone where we are or waiting on the line long enough for them to track us, is something that Fyers will be able to use. However, I have another contect we can use but it's at the house."

"What house?" Oliver wiped his hands down his shirt as he returned to his spot on the floor, next to Slade. He pulled on his gloves to warm his hands, before putting them under his armpits.

"Yao Fei's. I had to phone wire tapped, early on. Only his daughter, Mei, is still living there. But I can use it to send a message without being traced. It is the only way we will be able to make direct contact. Plus, I don't think it's that far."

Oliver nodded, looking at Slade with concern.

"Don't worry. We'll go back for him."

"I'm not worried. I trust that you will."

Slade shook his head. "Knowing or in what should be your case, guessing the type of person I am, is very different from trusting. Save yourself the trouble and don't."

"How about; I trust you and you continue to be cynical?" Oliver suggested.

Slade snorted. "Fine, but thinking like that will get you killed."

"And being alone or trusting no one won't?"

Slade did not even glorify that with an answer. He moved down to lay along the fire.

"I never thought I would say this about the Island but I miss it," Oliver said, "We had shelter."

"Knew where to hunt and where to get water."

Oliver nodded. "Plus bedding and pillows," It was far too cold without them and the stone floor would leave them stiff and not very well rested, but outside, they would freeze in the rain.

Slade waved the blonde over.

"Hm?" Oliver knelt down at his side.

"My turn to be a pillow," He said, patting his chest.

"Very funny."

Slade grinned. "I'm serious. It'll be more comfortable and sharing body heat will make things easier."

"What happened to the not trusting people thing?"

"I could still kill you in your sleep."

Oliver's shoulders shook with a quick laugh. Slade did raise some good points.

"Today is still your day," Ollie meant it as a joke and Slade probably saw it as one but the blond really felt that saying so implied far too much. Like every night they would be switching shifts of who slept on whom. It sounded like bad flirting and Oliver did not mean it like that, he did not even lower his tone or give a smile, so even if it was flirting, it was pretty poor. Slade was so going to laugh, wasn't he?

"Then I'll sleep on you tomorrow night," Slade said, holding open his injured arm.

Slade was not the kind of guy who offered kindness twice, he got inpatient quickly and angry at the drop of a hat. Had it been warmer, the floor softer, Oliver still might have thought about it as the man was offering and turning it down could be rude. He liked being on the man's good terms.

Oliver nodded. He moved down, his cheek to Slade's pec, a very firm yet soft pillow. He left a little space between their bodies but Slade's arm hugged his back, pulling Ollie closer, pushing down on his lower back with his hand, so they were pressed together, before he rested said hand on Oliver's side. Oliver stiffed at the fact that he was now spooning Slade's side but relaxed as the man under him sighed. He threw an arm over the Aussie, his firm belly muscles feeling rock hard.

Ollie was surprised to find that things were not as awkward as he thought it would have been. He moved his arm up so it lay across Slade's chest, hand on his strong shoulder, and hid his face in the crook of his own elbow, to keep the bright flames from his eyes.

"Goodnight," Oliver said, voice muffled by Slade's shirt.

"Night, kid."

* * *

2009

Slade neared in on the red hoodie, coming around a corner just in time to stop dead in front of thief. The young stunned thief.

Slade grabbed ahold of said hood as the boy tried to bolt past, and took back the bag.

"Go home. Get a job," Slade spoke firmly, looking deep into his green eyes.

Slade moved forward, holding the bag by the base, leaving the boy flat on his backside in the middle of a busy street, spotted with many rather confused faces.

He made his way over to the family, holding the bag out to Moira as he neared.

"Thank you," she smiled.

"I too would like to thank you," Moria's partner spoke, extending a hand which Slade took. "This action on your behalf meant a lot to all of us. If I may ask, did you get a look at his face?"

"Just an ankle bitter."

"What's next?" Thea grinned "Saving kittens from trees."

"Thea," Moira gasped at her daughter.

"For a second. I thought that hoodie was being put to bad use."

"Funny," the young girl hissed.

Slade chuckled.

"You know each other?" Walter spoke. It was an odd situation, at the very least. Questionable regardless.

"I met him when I went out for coffee with a few friends," Thea explained. "Speaking of which. No coffee this morning?"

Slade pointed a thumb over his shoulder, his expression souring. He grasped at the twinge below his shoulder. "Left it on a post box. I think."

"You okay?"

"Work related injury. It's healed. Just sore. Don't sweat it, kid," his words caught up quickly. Leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Here he stood, the man whose actions had lead to Oliver's death, chatting with his family like nothing had happened. Like he had not stopped Oliver from returning to that island. Did not disagree when Oliver offered mirakuru. Ironically, fearing what would happen to Ollie if he were to die.

"I've got to go but it was nice meaning you all," Slade faked a smile, stepping back onto one leg to hint his intention. "Have a good day," he quickly made his leave.

* * *

2008

Oliver woke that morning, and felt confused. Surprised that he had not awoke to Slade nudging him with his boot, then he wondered what his head was resting on. What was he holding?

Flexing his hand, he felt a worn material under his long fingers. Slade's shirt.

Ollie opened his eyes to see the tartan pattern of the Australian's keffiyeh, the tassels dragging along his dirty blonde hair. They were in the same position they had been last night, except Oliver was further over, pretty much on top of Slade, their legs tangled together and Slade had both his arms wrapped around Oliver.

Oliver shifted so he could see if Slade's eyes were open, he moved around more than he should have but Slade was not awake.

He had not awoke with all of Oliver's movements.

"Slade?"

Nothing.

The guy was recovering, he must have been tired. However, then Oliver noticed how bright it was. He looked over to the window. The sun was out and very much bright. They had slept in. It was far too bright for early morning in Autumn. Oliver tried to tell himself that maybe Slade was giving them a break, he had planed for them to stay another night here but... It was just so unlike him. Oliver imagined Slade was the kind of guy, whose eyes would snap open at the first ray, or if Oliver so much as twitched.

Here he was, bright sun light, fully rested, with a man on top of him, wiggling around, and he was still sleep? That was odd.

Without thinking, Oliver put his palm to Slade's forehead. It was hot, he was running a fever.

Slade's hand clamped over Oliver's. The man hummed in question, sounding groggy but very much aware. His eyes flickered open.

"You're sick?"

Slade shook his head, moving his head from the blond's hand. "I'm fine," he grumbled. He looked over to the missing windows, frowning at the midday light. "Let's get set and move on."

Oliver sat back on his knees. "I thought we were going to stay here another day."

"Best not," Slade said, pushing himself up.

Oliver said nothing.

* * *

2009

Slade watched Thea from afar, along with Moira, Walter, even Tommy, a close friend of the family. Letting Thea find him now and again. He was ashamed of how much she reminded him of Oliver. Her smile, her humour, and use of a sarcasm to rival his own. A trait that was alien to most Americans. Especially with the cover of politeness.

No change. No strangers hiding in the dark. Nothing.

Aside from Tommy's sudden need to travel to China. A fact he kept hidden. And although it had made Slade's chest tighten. The event was understandable.

He could leave the matter to the Solntsevskaya bratva, Anatoly had already sworn the family his protection. But the further from Russian the family was, the less likely they were to be watched over. Plus, Slade knew how to stay hidden, to not seem out of the ordinary. One wrong move, and the Queen family could be seen to be against, or worse, have ties to the Russian mafia.

Slade stood from the thin mattress provided by the motel he had called home for the past few weeks. He made his way to the bathroom, and kelt down before the skin. He rotated the already loose bolts with his fingertips, until he could remove the wooden panel shrouding the fake porcelain stand.

There sat his blades, upon folded up black clothing. He removed the items to find the worn little book. He eyed the pattern he and Oliver never discover the meaning of.

He picked up the book.

He was not going anywhere.

With a sigh of relief, he stood and fished his phone from his jeans pocket. He typed a text.

_I've found us a place I think you will really like. The city I've been sending you pictures of._

He smiled.


	4. Chapter Four

2009

Corruption. That was the theme. Every last name was guilty of it in someway. Some were clear. Others would have most in disbelief; the clues circumstantial, links explained. But it was there. Every. Single. Time.

Slade never had to prove his skill. It was clear in the way he moved, in the missions he took. The stories of those he had killed, and all the many ways he had done so. That being said. There was nothing quiet like letting loose.

He lay on his belly, the long sleek black metal of a rifle in his hands. The stone of the roof, belonging to block of flats he found himself on, was cold, even through his clothing. The night wind would have made it bone chilling, had it been blowing stronger.

Everything was set. He had researched this guy. Another corrupt busyness man, and a bad one at that. His influence allowing trained mercs into the city. High powered weaponry, and that hint of human trafficking. And also, the name that had crossed his mind most recently. When, on his first day in the city, he had gone to see Laurel.

The Laurel. Oliver's first real romance. The girl who had been falling in love with him. The cause of the stupid decision that left the billionaire on that island.

Apparently. This businessman had dated a girl, a foolish rebellious twenty real old. He had groomed her. Then, when she acted out. Her mother was attacked while shopping. Then, seemingly out of no where. Her father had lost his job for no reason.

The girl had broken free, the only reason this rumour was known. But she never spoke about it. And she and her family had left the city.

Slade could not have picked anyone better. Nor a better location. Height. Easy actress and escape. And the camera just over his shoulder.

* * *

Lance sat at his deck, staring at the images on the TV screen. It was a still picture, of a recording taken of the murder of James Peterson, that had flooded the internet.

It was of a man, clad in all black; with what looked to be a body protector covering his ribcage. On his back were two strange poles? It was unclear in the dark. There was only one thing about him that had colour. A metal mask, the one side black, the other a blazing orange.

Lance glanced over to the board that held all the information that had been found. At the top, along with the same picture as shown on the TV screen, was a picture of the shell casing. Just the one shot was all that was needed. This was clearly a highly skilled marksman, if he was able to shoot a man from not only a long distance, but through the partially open window of his office.

Lance guessed that the man knew the windows were bullet resistant. Or just plain cocky.

And on this casing, the killer had carved a circle of little squares, the raised lines creating a pattern.

Quentin looked over his shoulder as he heard Hilton approaching.

"Flashy."

"More than you know," Hilton leant against the officer's desk as he hummed in question. "The camera that took that shock," he pointed at the TV with the folder in his hand. "Was broke. It was fixed, and the signal rerouted to multiple buildings with cameras under the same system. The furthest we've found was a block away."

Lance huffed.

That explained the building managers determination that he had not leaked the footage. He probably never even saw it.

"What's that?" Lance nudged his head towards the paperwork.

"Remember that case a few days ago, two men and a women; broken neck, shot, and cracked skull."

"Did you find out who they were?"

Hilton passed the detective the lab report. "No. But the bullet we found, it's cross-contaminated, so no DNA, but the techs had a further look. Who ever it is, is sick."

"What kind of illness?"

"It's hard to say. The cells are mutated severely. They believe it's genetic but would need a bigger sample to find out. They've sent for advise else where. But whatever it is, it's definitely unique."

"Even more mystery. Great," Lance groaned. Even if a fire of curiosity burned inside.

* * *

2008

Oliver tried not to think about how off Slade looked in their first day of traveling. How, that night, Slade lay next to him, resting his head on Oliver's chest, appearing completely drained.

They travelled for the next six days, going back and forth for who lay on whom. Oliver never offered giving up his turn again, after Slade gave him a look that made Ollie wonder if he had been safer on the island. At least they were still sharing heat, which was hopefully doing Slade some good.

Finally, they made it to the out skirts of a small city. Slade found them a run down shop, with an apartment above it. No one had lived there for a while, so they took it. They found a map, thankfully, Yao Fei's house was in a town not too far away, but would still require a good del of traveling.

Slowly but surely, Slade had began to look more feverish over the past few days.

He was more compliant but irritable. He rubbed his neck a lot but Oliver was no masseur, and the Aussie seemed too crabby to accept help. Ollie always checked his forehead in the morning -Slade did not awake before him anymore- he was still running a temperature. He also got all confused by the map and a couple of days before they had got to the city he had become lethargic, moving sluggishly, like he was having to force himself.

Oliver had enough. He was not far off demanding what had made Slade sick, when he saw the bandage, around the Australian's arm. The one he always insisted on changing himself, even when that must have been difficult thing to do. Ollie asked if it was it was infected. It was. Badly.

As Slade took an afternoon nap to help build his energy, which he was losing far too quickly. Oliver snuck out.

He met a woman who described to him what the characters for antibiotics looked like. Tidying himself up, Oliver searched around like a tourist and found a chemist, he watched from afar and when he got a chance, as the owner was dealing with some sort of problem over the phone. Oliver causally walked into the back room, making out just in time, with a bottle of pills in his pocket, to look like a courteous customer looking at the shelves. He even went so far as to fane disappointment for the store being out of some sort of product before he took his leave. Hoping that it was not something weird; like Viagra or an intimate feminine wash.

Oliver got back to see that the man was still asleep, on an old bed roll he had found in a closet. He was getting worse.

Ollie went over to the basin, folding a crisp white hand towel he had stolen, among with a few other items, from a hotel. He held it under the tap till it was soaked through, then twisted the water out. So, the towel was just cold and damp. He stepped over to Slade, knelt down and placed the towel on his forehead. It was then that Slade's eyelashes fluttered apart, grabbing on to Oliver's arm with a tight grip but with no real malice, then relaxed, just holding on to Oliver.

"What are you-" he sighed at the pleasant cool as Oliver pushed down on the towel. "What time is it?"

"You were asleep for over two hours," Oliver reached into his pocket, taking out the bottle and shaking it, the pills rattling around. "I got you some antibiotics."

Slade raised a brow but did not bother asking how the blond got hold the medicine. "How can you be sure it's the right thing?"

"I got a translation from a women and clarified the bottle with three other people," Oliver explained. "You need to take two pills twice a day, on an empty stomach," he tapped out two onto his hand and put them in Slade's hand. "I'll get you some water."

"It's fine," Slade grumbled. He tipped his head back and dropped the pills down his throat.

Oliver was surprised about Slade's lack of hesitation. Then again, he had checked out the pills thoroughly.

"You should go back to sleep."

Slade shook his head and made himself sit up. "We can get to the house in a few days if we leave now."

"You'll kill yourself," Oliver crossed his arms, his eyebrows lowered.

"And you have a better idea?"

Oliver laughed, "Than killing yourself? Yes! We stay here till you're well enough."

Slade frowned. "No."

"Fine," Oliver dropped onto his butt, crossing his legs. "I'm not going. So, you go and I'll follow."

Slade had that 'I'm going to kill you if you don't cooperate, right now' look in his eyes, his dark brown irises appearing black. "I'll be long gone by then."

Oliver shrugged. "I'll be fine."

The Australian kept the annoyed expression for a while longer. But Oliver was not going to back down.

Slade sighed, sounding more like a growl. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed the brat in his state. There was no way he would have got food, water, medical supplies, or even the hotel pillow he had been resting his head on, had it not been for the blond's surprisingly good thieving skills. With his condition, he would need the kid.

"Fine," Slade grumbled, "Let's go get some food."

Oliver smiled, showing his teeth, trying to look innocent. "I went to another hotel."

Slade gave a blank expression but still seemed rather irritated. "What did you get?"

"Sandwiches..."

Slade chuckled.

Ollie kept an eye on the older man

"Christ, kid."

"What?"

Slade smiled. "You could make it without me," He meant it as a compliment. It was true after all, the kid really could make it on his own.

"I don't want to."

* * *

2009

Slade paused in his chopping of a red ripe bell pepper, as he caught the scent of perfume. Rich, yet fine. Expensive to be sure. Mixed with the tang of hairspray, and cologne, which was softer. Must have been secondary contact. It was a smell he knew, and one that did not match the area he lived in at all.

He made his way out of his temporary home, to spot Moira Queen walking across the parking lot.

He waited, arms resting on the railing over the stone wall that sectioned the second story walk way, the white paint chipped and stained.

He met her eyes and smiled.

"You don't look like you belong here. If you don't mind me sayin'," Slade spoke as Moira reached the top of the staircase.

"I was surprised that you live here," she made her way over, heels clicking.

He shrugged. "I've lived in worse. Not to say I don't like nice things."

Moira smiled. "I guess so. Tell me, mister Wilson. Are you still with the military? On leave?"

Slade shook his head. "I've left. For good. I plan to stay here in Starling. With my son."

"Oh. How old?"

"Six."

One good thing about ASIS; they delivered on their favours. Slade and his son were given permission to live and work in the US on solid grounds.

That, and their need to

A goodbye parting gift, both for his service, and for his choice to don what was now only his symbol, all that remained of team ten. One of the deadliest Australian special operations groups of all times. That they had done this for him, a way of saying that this was where their associate ended, for good.

They would forgo mentioning to the world in any sense, that they knew of the identity the man behind the black and orange mask. Even if he was going around killing innocents, they would not bring up who he was. The back lash would be far greater.

"A good age," Moira smiled, it was fond but bittersweet considering her words. "My late son, Oliver. He was six when I bought him a horse. I thought he could grow with her, learn to hide and take responsibility. She scared the life out of him but he loved her, so he demanded we kept her. He never did learn how to ride."

"Joe loves horses," Slade spoke. The conversation felt pleasant, even if surreal. "He thinks they're mythical. Like dragons. It could take a while to explain."

She laughed softly.

"Not going to tell him about seahorses. He can keep that. For now."

Moira's giggles subsided. She smiled politely. "You are different from what I expected."

Slade held his arm out to the open door of his apartment.

Moira stepped inside, turning as Slade shut the door. "If I am honest. I came here today to offer you a job. With all that has been happening in this city, I want to give my daughter better protection. But I fear I should recline my offer."

"Mind if I ask why?"

"You have a family of your own. I'm sure you have put yourself at risk enough in your life."

"It is what I am trained for, misses Queen. And I will need employment," He put on a smile. It was a brilliant way to protect the family, but at the same time, he was not sure if he could hope to contain his guilt. However, he would suffer, and that was something Slade Wilson deserved.

"Could you reconsider?"


	5. Chapter Five

2009

Slade sat down on what was now his bed. His clothes in meny draws and the wardrobe. His weaponry, suit and mask, safely hidden tucked under the floorboards beneath said bed. This was home, for how long he was not sure.

His bed was a queen size, with an old oak frame, and black cotton sheets. The at front of the bed sat a long wooden box which Slade avoid but felt comforted to have there as he slept. The floors were also wood, the walls painted white, the ceiling was high, with carved lines and curves like that of creeping ivy.

The room had its own ensuite, and the bath thankfully had a shower attachment. This room was also large, you could leave the door open and swing a cat, and you could still get to very piece of furniture, product or towel you needed, with room to spare. It was th size of most bedrooms he had slept in, bigger in fact.

There were three sets of railings for towels. One by the bath, another , smaller set, by the the skin. Okay. Fair enough, there was a distance. But what was the third set for? Towel related emergencies? Maybe it was to keep the used ones separate as they dried...it could also be possible that the old ones were removed and destroyed.

Slade stood, making his way over to one of the large windows that over looked the huge garden, glancing between the wooden frame work. It was mostly green grass, kept hidden by the large walls and hedges, which were now too far to see, with sunset already past. There was collections of trees here and there, and the patio was surrounded by a hip high aged stone wall, with two sets of wooden gates.

The gates were the only worn down looking item on the property. They were rotted, like a hard kick could easy break the wood. And the hinges that held them to the wall were stiff. But unlike all the items in the house, the gates could not help but be exposed to the wind and the rain, the snow, and blazing sun.

Even so, they were not replaced. Just left open, so not to be used too often. Their dead nature hide by the dark, seeming almost young again in the light of the victorian lanterns that ran along the wall.

It was vast, yet adorable. Could have done with some more plant life.

He thought over his time with the Queen family. Their shared meals had been uncomfortable at first, Walter was still a little off put by the new addition. Especially as he was being treated more like a guest than staff. Slade was just pleased the Englishman lived in his own house, as he was bordering on getting a punch to the gut. But Thea really like Slade's company, and Moira was becoming more accustom to him each day.

Speaking of staff. That was still weird. None of the staff lived at the mannor, which Slade was relieved by. Raisa had a heart of gold, and was more of a nanny than cleaner. Slade liked her. She was polite and friendly, and Thea absolutely loved her. Hads had Oliver.

There was a cook, Darren, and a pair of gardeners. Nice bunch. Darren always said it would soon be Christmas soon, when subjects took turn of the depressing. The fact that it was September had Slade smiling. The type of guy that could make an impossible work load look like a piece of piss.

Theo and Lee were also pretty chilled out. Working hard and taking life as it came. The brothers also looked after the cars and basic maintenance.

Things were not so bad.

* * *

2008

Thea lifted her head from where she curled up on the sofa, legs dangling over on the the arms, to smile up at Slade, as she heard him coming down the staircase.

"How's it going with the lawyers?"

"Should not be long now. Hopefully," Slade rested his arms on the back of the three person real leather sofa, glancing at the adverts playing on the screen.

"Mom loves kids. She would have you just to have a child here," Thea curved into herself, pulling the sleeves of her jumper over her hands.

Slade looked over to the huge stone fire place, it had a cast iron log burner inside, and pile of kindling sitting before it, the wood splintered; as if cut by a hand tool.

"Is the fire just for show?"

"Hm. Oh, that. No, it lights. We just don't use it," Thea sat up. "But it's kept clean just in case. I remember Lee saying that if it was not and we used it. It could film the house with spoke."

Slade smiled. "Want to light it?"

Thea smiled brightly. "Yes!" She jumped up. "How do we do that?"

Slade moved around the sofa, dropping down onto one knee, before waving her over.

* * *

2009

Slade blinked. He turned to Oliver. His blue eyes looked so determined, flashing green like the hood Yao Fei had worn.

"Stop thinking that I'm just waiting to stab you in the back. Believe it or not, we're partners in this. We're going to get to the house and we're going to get back to the island and we're going to save Yao Fei-"

Slade grabbed hold of Oliver's shoulder. "I know."

Oliver held his breath, took back for a moment. He exhaled. "You may not trust me but I trust you."

Slade removed his hand. "Do me a favour, kid. Grab that large bowl from the kitchen, fill it with water, and grab that bar of soap you stole, and a towel."

Oliver gave the man an odd look but he left. He returned with the large case cooking bowl that they had found in a cupboard. The soap was wrapped in paper, in his pocket, and he had a hand towel in the crook of his elbow. He arrived to see Slade returning to the bed roll, a knife in hand. He continued his way when the man waved him over, placing the bowl on the floor next to the Aussie.

"What are you doing?"

Slade held up the knife handle, blade between his fingers, flicking his wrist so that the handle landing perfectly in his free hand. Oliver eyed the weapon. It was shorter than the rest, standing at only three inches long. It was a type of switchblade, it was about an inch wide, and made of steel that had been sharpened to a fine line.

"Nothing says trust like a knife to the neck," Slade said, "So, if you trust me. Let me teach you how to shave."

Oliver just looked at Slade, then the objects he had been asked to bring. The man wanted to shave him? That sentence sounded so wrong... But Slade was right. It did show trust and he would have to learn. It was more surprising than freakish.

Slade pulled one leg to himself, resting his arm on it, knife daggling from his grasp. "Well?"

Oliver paused but then nodded. He had a point to prove, Slade may have been right about a lot of things, but he was wrong about this. Then he saw Slade's smirk, and the spark of a callenge was too hard to resist.

Slade smirked as he watched the billionaire grab the soap from his pocket, unwrapping it and dipping it into the water, rubbing his hands in a circular pattern to gather lather, before placing the soap back on the packaging. Oliver quickly covered his jaw, chin and above his lips, with the vanilla scented soap.

"You're making a mess."

Ollie finally met the man's eyes, promptly ignoring the shape of his lips. "I don't have a mirror."

Shade rolled his eyes. An action seeming too pleasant for the man he had been stuck with more all of two weeks.

"Lift your chin," Slade ordered, dipping his knife into the water.

Oliver choose to take his time, cleaning his hands in water, drying them, trying to smile at the way Slade was leering at him. But then, he close his eyes and tilted his jaw.

He froze as a large warm fingers captured his jaw, but stayed still as a cold line ran sideways up to the point of his chin.

Ollie allowed his face to me moved and manipulated. The process was oddly relaxing, he only tensed as the blade ran over the points of his jaw. It was only when Slade started at his top lip that Oliver remembered that he should problably been paying attention to what Slade was doing.

Oliver opened his eyes. Slade was few inches from him, his dark irises focused at the job at. Ollie sucked in a breath as Slade's thumb pushed his culid's bow. The Aussie's lips perked at the corners, and his eyes flicked up to meet Oliver's set of aqua.

Oliver had always thought of himself as smooth, he was an out going kid, which followed him throughout his life. He had never remember feeling so nervous to look a person in the eyes, till he met Slade, and at the same time, he could not stop. His heart banging in his chest, his gut heavy with the weight of unknown emotion.

Oliver turned his vision, rubbing his sweaty hands over the back of his arms.

"All done," Slade said, cupping Oliver's face in his hands, the towel in between acting as the only barrier between them.

Oliver laughed as Slade rubbed at his face, although he felt that its origin was to fill the science.

Slade grabbed the soap, ducking it into the water before working up a hand full of white lather. He rinsed his hands, dried them, and held the knife out for Oliver.

Ollie watched Slade for a few seconds, his eyes were closed, expression calm. The idea of holding a knife to the man, slowly and without expected retaliation,was surreal, more so as he moved the knife forward, his free taking hold of Slade's jaw. He turned the blade as he remembered his would have to drag the sharpened end across the tanned skin. Something that was pretty obvious, but at this moment everything seemed too quick, his mind fogged like it was full of cotton wool.

Slade's skin was hot from the fever, and his stubble prickled Oliver's palm. But he did not fuss, his breathing did not even hitch in the slightest. Like he could sense exactly where the blond was; could feel the heat of his nearing hands, and the cold of the knife, could hear each shuffle of clothing and draw of breath with pinpoint accuracy. A thought that had Oliver's ribcage constricting, heart echoing an incredible pace from his throat.

For the next few minutes, Oliver worked on Slade's face, pushing his chin with his fingers to where he wanted the man to face.

Slade watched the young billionaire after a time, his eyes half-lidded, squinting when Oliver cut at his jaw bone but otherwise, the blonde did well. Maybe, he had done this to himself when he was living with Yao Fei. He must have.

He could not help but admire the other's beauty. His eyes were so wide and full of a mixture of blue and green, creating an interesting changing colour effect in different lights. His angular jaw was not free from blond stubble and his skin was a perfect shade of cream. His hair gave him that innocent look that must have misled many from his attitude. His fingers were long and nimble. For someone who hesitated and stumbled around like bambi, and in every given moment, cowered to him, so much so, that half the time, Slade forgot the man was taller than him. Yet he was almost graceful in his movements.

Oliver was a man, not a boy, as much as his personality said other wise. He was lean with well developing muscles over his chest and arms, from the life he had been dropped into. Nothing about him was feminine but young, and attractive all the same. He also had a natural talent for fighting, moving quickly and with ease like he was dancing.

Oliver lifted Slade's chin to expose his neck, dragging the blade up his delicate skin. Ollie held his breath with each movement, letting it out as he washed the blade, which further filled the water with short and long wiry hairs, the surface covered in the excess soap suds.

Once finished, Oliver dipped his hands again, wiping away what remained of the soap from Slade's face. Slade's skin felt so smooth. His face clean-shaven by Oliver's hand. Ollie then took the towel, opening it up and holding it to Slade's jaw.

It was then that Oliver met his eyes for the first time since he started and he felt the awkwardness. He was following Slade's actions, and yet, something felt different. His overwhelming heart beat felt too load. He removed the towel, dropping it to the floor.

Slade lifted a hand to his face, rubbing his fingertips along his clear skin. "Thank you."

"It's fine..." Oliver shifted in discomfort before he moved to stand.

Slade cupped Oliver's cheek, causing the blonde to freeze.

The night they slept together for the second time, as Oliver snuggled up to Slade. He had realised that he felt comfort in sleeping with the man. Then the following morning, when he found that the Aussie was sick, he realised that he felt concern for him. And in the last half an hour, something about what they were doing held intimacy, something he had not felt for a long time, even longer when he knew he was not hurting the person he should be caring for.

Though for all that he felt, Oliver had no idea when his crush for Slade started. It had been a long time since he held back being with a person but something about Slade made him almost shy. Truth be told, he had not crushed on anyone since he was sixteen. Slade had an aura of being dominate, strong and mysterious. And Oliver liked it, he felt protected but strived to be the older man's equal.

Slade smiled as looked into his eyes, and Oliver was not sure what was happening, what Slade was after.

Slade watched as Oliver started to put the pieces together, going though a moment of panic, looking away sheepishly. His eyes flickering back after a second.

Slade's full light red lips descended upon Oliver's thin pink ones.

There was moment where nothing happened. Oliver was shocked, his breath caught in his throat. He had thought about this, finding himself curious about kissing a man. And not just another drunk experiment, but a real kiss. Thoughts that had never crossed his mind until Slade. But actually happening? He never would have believed it. Slade was a hard man to read and Oliver made no such moves or hints as he expected he would receive a fist in the face for his trouble.

Ollie watched Slade, his eyes were shut and he made no attempt to move. Just held the kiss, awaiting a sign of what Oliver thought.

He kissed back. Seconds later, Slade pulled away.

Slade gave a wicked smile against Oliver's lips, his breath making the blond shiver. He stared deep into the bright crystal blue orbs, framed by blond eyelashes.

"Sandwich?"

Oliver glared.

Slade's chuckled as he moved back.

* * *

2008

"Slade, Slade," Thea waved her hand in the detection heavy echoed footsteps. "I kept it alight!"

Slade returned to his pillow on the woven rug, pleased by the big grin across the girl's lips, and the little fire working its way up the logs she had added.

"Not bad," he had expected the fire to go out. "Here," he held out a green glass bottle. Taking a swing from his own when she took hers.

"Beer?" She cocked a brow.

"Man's job. Man's drink," she shrugged.

"Dick."

"Don't swear," he took another sip, then placed the bottle on the stone floor of the fire place with a sigh. "Need to keep some standards."

"And if mom comes home early," Thea point out. "How do you explain two bottles?"

"Alcoholism."

She giggled. She took a drink and hummed. "That's not bad. I always thought beer was something you had to get used to."

"If you don't enjoy something the first time, then its purely a vice," he continued. "Saying that, taste change over time."

Thea laughed, before her smile softened.

It was nice sitting together on the floor, the room cool, fire hot enough to have them content. The TV gentle background noise. Nothing but the light of the TV, fire, and one standing lamp, the room a warm brown in the low light. The life of a city seeming a million miles away.

"I think Oliver, my brother would have liked you."

Slade tensed but huffed a laugh. "I don't know. I can be a real arsehole."

"Well, yes. But you're funny, and you didn't change just because you work here. You let me drink."

"Better here than out there. Do that and I will drag you home."

"You have a deal."

Thea held out her hand with a grin, and Slade took it with a smirk. He noted how strong her grip was, her fingers slender and long. And it that moment, he felt a trickle of familiarity, both sad yet heart warming, flowing though his chest.


	6. Chapter Six

2009

"Wrong hand," Slade said, Thea's closed fist in his hand. "You hold the hand you write with back. It's the one you hit better with, you want to save this shot. And not rely on it."

Thea nodded as she pulled back her hand, rubbing at her knuckles, which was wrapped in tape to stop her from breaking a bone

She was dressed down to a vest, hiding her sports bra, and a pair baggy sport bottoms. Slade wore the same...minus the bra. His collar bone and arms were covered in scarred lines and burned skin. And just off his right shoulder was a circular pink welt, another scar but its origin was uncertain.

"Joe told me that you have archery trophies," Slade took hold of Thea's hand, his fingers working the craps from her hand, while his thump pushed along the back of her hand.

Thea smiled.

Joe was such a little cutie. His skin was sun kissed but not as dark as his father's, his eyes were a deep green, hair blonde and curly like that of a lamb. He looked more a member of the Queen family than he did Slade. But his expressions. Those defiantly came from his father. He could say everything he needed with the raise of a brow or a stare.

"I started when I was a kid. I was pretty good," she cringed as the thin bones in her hand clicked, but she felt so much better.

"Combat weaponry exceeds far more than guns."

"Like that guy on the news. The sniper."

The Starling Sniper, or just Sniper, was the identity coined for Slade's late night escapades. Distance worked well for him. He did not have to escape when his presence was detected, he only had to kill his target, or a straight forward warning, and there was never any evidence. Aside from the marked casings he left behind.

Slade snorted. "Creative."

Not the worse nickname Slade has had. His last had been created from a mixture of respect and fear, then laughed about and dropped after a certain film and its Austria actor.

"He wouldn't be not the first to use swords in combat," Slade said.

Slade had targeted name after name from the book, mostly returning goods, revealing evils, and the occasional assignation. His work was clinical, it had to be. He only killed targets who reacted badly to his presence, bringing mercs and weapons into the city. For the rest, he exposed them. He kept a clear mind about his plan. That being said, if anyone touched Thea or Joe, he would brake their ribcage and pull out their lungs. Allowing them to suffocate as the organs deflated.

"They use swords in the military?" Thea had a conflicted expression.

"Not so much. But I have see blades in parts of the word. Including swords. Throwing daggers, wooden poles, and," he pushed his thumb down on her index and middle finger, popping the hidden air bubbles. "I once knew a man. He was a general in the Chinese military, and an archer. Give him a bow and a few arrows, and no one could beat him. That-" fucker "Shot me. Not something I would want to relive."

Thea pulled back her hand, which felt weird, almost lighter? Good or not, it still felt weird.

Indeed. Ow. Had Shado not been in danger, Slade would have shot him back.

"Would you like to learn contact archery?" Slade smirked.

"How is that even a qeastion?" Thea smiled.

Slade stepped past Thea without another word, walking up to the patio where he had placed a long wooden box, his only explanation of what it was being 'You'll see.' He fished the key from his pocket, and placed it in the lock. Something he had not done since he felt China, all those months ago.

"So, that's what you keep in there," Thea eyed the wooden longbow that Slade pulled out. She took it as he held in out. For the first time since she had met him, he seemed tense. His expression was solemn, and the way he held the bow, like it was a precious item intend of a tool, was interesting.

"I've never seen a bow like this," she bushed the wood the back of her fingers, she glanced into the box. It was filled with padding and a single arrow.

The arrow was made of wood and slightly misshapen, as if it had been made by hand. The arrow had a tri fletching, made from what looked like real feathers cut into shape. They started grey, then leached into white and the very tip of two of the rounded diamonds were black. But most interesting of all, was the arrow head. It was not metal, but a grey sharped stone, sealed to the arrow with binds, holding the stone into its nest, dug down into the arrow.

"Hand made. Black-tailed gull," Slade said, smiling as he looked to the arrow, but did not dare touch it. "Archers in Asia made their own. To prove their worth to their craft."

"The general?"

Slade shook his head. "No. But he did teach him. Blondie was just some city kid who was dropped into a war zone, but he learned how to handle himself. We got to safety but he wanted to go back. To save someone he owed his life to."

"Brave."

"Stupid," Slade snorted. "But brave."

"What happened?" Thea moved the bow in her hand, holding it firm yet gentle.

"We went back," Slade said. His appearance was stoic, and under neither, his sides twisted with guilt. His breath sharper from the rage that threatened to build, only dampened by his strength of will, and his feeling of loss. He would not let the mirakuru clam him again. It was his tool, not the other way around.

"The rest is blurry," he pressed the tip of his index finger to his temple. "Head injury."

"What happened to him?"

Slade's vision unconsciously flickered to the arrow. "I don't know. The first thing I remember was walking through the woods. Nothing was left. The Australian government searched the area for months but found nothing."

"I'm sorry. I-" she held the bow out.

"It was a long time ago," Slade lied. "But it did give me respect for the craft. You can really fight, enough training and you won't need a bodyguard," he smirked as he saw the twinkle in her eyes, the twitch of her lips. "Learning to fire a gun does more than give you the knowledge to use the weapon. It allows you to focus on your surroundings, to not feel panic when you're taken by surprise, and it will help you under stand what I am teaching you."

Slade took her hand once more, guiding her fist shut in his grasp. "You are not defending yourself while help comes. You are attacking back," He placed his other hand around her hand that held the bow. "This is what this weapon was made for. To teach"

Her small cool hands warm under his engulfing hot skin. Feeling both comforting and intimidating. But that was Slade. There was something under neither his kind words and warm smile. His scars the only evidence she could see. But even when Slade said that he had done bad things, Thea knew he had his reasons. She trusted him. He protected and looked out for her like she was his own daughter, but was honest with her. Never told her the world was what she wanted to believe.

Thea nodded.

"Let's see your aim."

* * *

2008

That night, after food and their new -technically old training routine, Oliver slumped down onto the wood floorboards. His body was wrecked from set after set of combat techniques, his wrists sore from hours of fumbling with knots pinning his hands behind his back. As Slade helpfully watched with a smirk, chatting with him and sharpening his blades. The Australian was weirdly entertained, he liked to see Ollie struggle. From not saying a thing as Ollie tried to work out what wood to collect, how to keep his feet down as he did stomach crunches and how he held the weaponry. The worst was still the incident with the lighter, closely followed by all the times he had thrown him on to his back.

"I don't know whether I should look forward to you getting better..."

Slade chuckled from where he sat of the windowsill, leaning against the frame.

Oliver drew his brows in thought. Wondering if this had been revenge for calling Slade out on not being able to make in by himself for the next few days.

"It's better to go to bed active, makes you more active when you wake."

"Sure...why not," Oliver grunted, pushing himself up. "Just don't sleep on top of me. I don't think I can take my own weight, let alone yours."

"We have a pillow."

Oliver paused. "Right. Yes. Of course."

Slade chuckled again. He was in a better mood, at least Oliver's suffering pleased someone.

Slade jumped down, before pushing the paper window covers shut, eliminating the light to a low glow from the streetlights. He moved forward until he was at Oliver's side.

"Come on kid."

Oliver crossed his arms.

Slade grabbed his blond locks and continued forward, moving slowly and holding onto the base of Ollie's long hair, so not to hurt the man but enough to pull the surprised young billionaire's head back.

"Hey!" Oliver slapped at the hand.

Slade let go with yet another smirk, heading over to the bed roll.

Oliver followed. He imagined that had Slade disliked him -because apparently Slade showed affection by abusing him, like a school boy pulling a girl's pigtails. The Aussie would have dragged him off, using his hair like some sort of handle.

Once Oliver got to Slade, he looked over the man who sat on the padded fabric. Only enough room for one.

"How do you sleep?"

"Um... On my front."

Slade moved back, giving Oliver space to lie. "That'll work."

Oliver sat down on the thin bed, his back to Slade as he untied his boots. "How do you like to sleep?"

"On my side."

Oliver stopped from where he was winding the laces from the tough fabric, to make the boots looser. He not planning to take them off due to the cold but it make things a little more liveable.

"How is that comfortable?"

"It just is," Slade had always preferred to lie on his side, his legs and arms stretched out. He was thankful that he fell asleep and woke after Oliver, as he had a tendency to point his pillow diagonally, his head on one end, while his arm curled around the rest of it. It was considered a rather _girly_ way to sleep but he found it comfortable.

"Well, at least we'll fit," Oliver shifted down onto his front. "Just."

Slade said nothing. He settled down on his side, one arm under his side of the thick and unbelievably comfy pillow, his other arm was thrown around Ollie's waist.

Oliver smiled, shifting closer to Slade's chest. It felt like he was lying next to a mixture of a brick wall and a space heater.

Slade pulled Oliver closer, hand skimming his chest, whereby the young billionaire flinched. Slade cocked a brow at the sudden movement but stayed silent, just took the pressure off. He pressed a kiss to one of the points of Oliver's jaw in apology, before settling his head back to the pillow.

"G'night kid."

"Goodnight," Oliver placed his hand over Slade's, his eyelids falling shut.

* * *

2009

Moira stepped through the one of double doors, breathing a sigh of relief as she caught the scent of cooked beef. She placed her satchel on the cupboard next to a line of hooks for coats. It held some documents but nothing too important. She shed her coat, reaching out an arm to shut the door.

Down to a dress and a thin suit jacket, she stepped forward, heels clacking against the wood floor.

"Joe?" she moved slowly. "Is Moi not going to get a hug?"

A little head poked around the open doorway to the one of the living-rooms.

Moira smiled gently. "Hi."

Joe smiled back, followed by running over. He threw his arms around the women's neck as she knelt down to see him.

When Slade told Moira about what happened to Joe, she had been horrified. Someone had broke into Slade's home while a friend of the family was babysitting. Slade had been part of a event that lead to someone the attacker cared for, to be arrested, then killed in prison. This information of who Slade was had been leaked, and Joe was kidnapped. He was rescued, but not before his throat had been cut, rendering him mute.

Joe kept to himself, and he was very shy to people he did not know. But he was also protective. Keeping an eye on people around the house, never leaving Slade's side for a week. He warmed to Thea first, of course. And was okay for the Slade and Thea to be alone together without being watched. And over time, he learned to accept Moira and the staff. He really like Raisa, all children of the house had.

Then Moira found out about Slade's wife. A tragedy. One that could be misshapen by a young mind, finding comfort in knowing that his remaining parent was safe.

Joe grinned. He signed the latters M, O, I. His way of saying Moira, as his hands were still slow moving, and the letter R was one of the symbols he tended to forget.

"Yes?"

Joe took her hand, leading her to the dinning room, where his drawings- and a forgotten pile of home work, blanketed the varnished wood of the table top.

Moira took a seat, ready for his presentation.


	7. Chapter Seven

2008

"Do you think we'll see any pandas?"

Slade and Oliver were walking down a dirt road, both wearing their outer shirts around their waists due to heat from all the walking, two bags of supplies hung on both of their shoulders. They had been walking for the past twelve hours, and had done so the past two days. They set off at what Slade believed to be six or seven every morning, taking the odd brake.

Oliver -as much as Slade hated to admit it- had been right, staying at the apartment two more days had done him well. He was eating more, not needing to sleep as much and he had more energy. Slade did not by any means sit back and take it easy, he still cooked their food, and kept his body in shape. He managed swallow his stubbornness enough to not over do it.

Before they left, Slade had 'insisted' that he accompany the blond as he went to gather supplies. Slade had watched how Oliver moved, casually stealing with no really bother, had he blinked he would have missed it. Slade found himself both surprised and proud.

The Australian raised a brow at the youngerman. "What makes you think I would know that?"

Oliver shrugged. "You know a lot."

In the time they had been lumped together, which was only about two weeks, Slade had portrayed a wide knowledge in geography, history, culture and war, and was flute in Russian, Arabic and Māori, the last of which was the origin of race. Which explain his skin tone.

Slade's brows knitted down together. "They're just life experiences," It left him wondering. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-two. You?"

Slade snorted. "Thirty-seven," The kid was barely an adult, probably started drinking legally in the last year. Fifteen years.

Oliver did not seem remotely bothered by the difference in age, although he did not look his young age. Slade looked his.

"So, what were you doing when you were my age?"

"I had been in the navy for four years."

Ollie's eyebrows shot up at that. "Really?"

Slade shrugged. "Wasn't the type to go to college. Back then, the navy was more about traveling the world."

Oliver nodded softly, eyes wide in fascination. He continued to nod as the older man spoke about his first trip which had been in Cairo. It was a gorgeous place, if a little overly catering to English speaking tourists which dulled it's unique surrounds and culture, but that was to be expected from the capital.

"But to answer your question, no, I don't think we will see any pandas. Pretty sure they're in the west of China."

"That's what I was talking about," Oliver threw his arms up. "How do you know so much? So far, the only think I've seen you fail at is disarming that mine."

"I might have been able to do it, had someone not been standing on it."

Oliver frowned. "Oh..."

"Don't worry about it, it was interesting finding out that they were there. The information we'll be useful for when he get back to the Island."

Oliver perked up at that, a small smile pulling at his lips.

The kid was like a puppy in many way. He followed Slade around to no real end, he was protective of him even when the Aussie was still the stronger of the two, he always gave Slade all his attention, and valued praise like it produced diamonds.

Since Slade had allowed them to shave each other, they slept close together every night, but did not go any further. Neither had any idea where they stood. Slade could see that the kid had a raging crush on him but he was not in the best condition, hell, sitting down too long made it difficult to get back up.

It had been a very long time since Slade had dated. And Oliver was a typical guy, sex was on his mind first and for most, and the idea of committing to someone was not something he was good at. Not that he did not enjoy the idea of Oliver withering under him, he had been having a lot of dirty dreams lately. But Oliver was too young and did not deserve the baggage.

But looking at Slade how he did, Ollie to one more. Slade had no real idea how far his desires went, and everything could just fall through but that would be for the best in the long run. What Slade could do, was protect that innocence. Stop that bright light from dimming any further, and help him get home

Oliver looked out to the rich green trees, spotting a few orange leaves, he smiled at the unusual plants and flowers. "It's beautiful here," He blinked when he saw a flower he recognised, braking from the trail to have a look.

"It is," Slade agreed, stopping as Oliver bend down to pick something up. "Reminds me of Island. All green fields and mountains."

"I've seen these in our garden," Oliver said, holding his hand out to present the bundle of small sky blue flowers, the centre of which were yellow. Two of the flowers attached were lilac.

"It's a Forget-me-not. They grow in New Zealand and a lot of Europe, but were introduced into most of Asia and America."

Oliver nodded, holding the flower up to the sun, hidden behind the clouds and leaves of the trees. "Why are two of them purple?"

"Could be because they are still growing, or are dying. Or it could be one of those plants that's petals change colour with the acidity in the soil."

Ollie gave him an odd look.

"The spectrum is usually lilac to deep blue, though I don't know if these flowers do that."

"Did they teach you that at spy school too?"

Slade stared back at the enquiry, and then started walking again.

"I'm serious," Ollie jogged to catch up with him. "Monday, swords and guns, Tuesday, try to disarm a mine, Wednesday, flower arranging-"

Slade's bumped his shoulder against Oliver's, their arms brushing. "You're little shit sometimes, you know that?"

"So I've been told," Oliver said with a small smile. The heat from their bare skin touching made Ollie shiver. His smile grew when the other man did not move away.

"We're here," Slade eyed the familiar road walkway sign. He tilted his head to the wilderness, "We can cut through here."

Oliver breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping as he followed. The flat of his feet were sore, his heels more so, even his archers were pained, like little stones were digging into his tender skin. The muscles in his legs were burning, both his shoulders hurting from swapping the bag of supplies back and forth to even out the pain in his joints.

Slade lead Oliver into the forest, staying at a slow pace so that Oliver did not stumble.

"We did it."

Slade smirked. "We did."

* * *

 

"Shh!" Oliver hissed at a floor board that creaked under his boot.

Slade cocked a brow from where he stood at the top of the stairs, having just checked out the last of the rooms. Getting annoyed at inanimate objects was an odd but common human reaction, but right now?

"Really?" Slade said, hosteling his side arm.

Oliver quickly became distracted with looking around the main room.

The Aussie chuckled, eyebrows draw as the disbelief was still hard to shake.

"This is Yao Fei's place?" Oliver over the two story house. The outside had been in the same Chinese style as all the others he had seen. It had looked recently painted and done up but the house its self was old.

"Passed down," Slade confirmed, "The land around here is mostly farming; grazin' and crops. It used to be a farm house way back when," he explained.

A thick layer of dust covered everything in the three bedroom house but it's beauty was clear all the same. The doors slid and were made of paper, all bright white, even in the dark. Except for the wardrobes, which were painted with the branch of a pink cherry blossom or climbing ivy. Aside from the doors that lead outside, which were made of solid wood, understandably. The decor was simple but beautiful, like the little wooden mice that were caved into the door frames leading to the kitchen.

"Let's get some windows open. I'm starting to suffocate in here," Slade rubbed his hands together to wipe away the dusk he had picked up from touching the handrail that lead upstairs.

Oliver nodded, before proceeding to open the living room window wide. The air that filled his lungs was a pleasure that had him groaning.

"Did you find your phone?" Ollie asked, looking over to Slade, who was opening the windows in the dinning room.

"Yes. But I will need to charge it. I could hook it up to the mains but there's no electricity," the Aussie sighed as the breeze hit him.

Oliver clicked his fingers. "There's a box in the kitchen!"

Slade turned his head. He smirked at the huge smile on the kid's face.

"Lead the way."


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back bitches!

"Shh!" Oliver hissed as a floor board creaked under his feet.

Slade stared from where he stood at the top of the stairs, having just checked the last of the rooms. Getting annoyed at inanimate objects was an odd yet common human reaction, but right now?

"Really?"

"What?" Oliver looking away

The Aussie chuckled, eyebrows draw with disbelief that was still hard to shake.

"This is Yao Fei's place?" Oliver over the two story house. It was in the same Chinese style as all the others he had seen. It had looked recently painted and done up but the house its self was old.

"Passed down," Slade confirmed, "Farm land for the next mile; grazin' and crops. It used to be a black smiths way back when," he explained, sliding the gun down the side of his belt.

A thick layer of dust covered everything in the three bedroom house but it's beauty was clear all the same. The doors slid and were made of paper, all a bright white, even in the dark. Except for the wardrobes, which were painted with the branch of a pink cherry blossom or climbing ivy. Aside from the doors that lead outside, which were made of solid wood, understandably. The decor was simple but beautiful, like the little wooden mice that were caved into the door frame leading to the kitchen. Or the odd bits of farm equipment that hung from the walls, mostly horse based.

"Let's get some windows open. I'm starting to suffocate in here," Slade rubbed his hands together to wipe away the dusk he had picked up from touching the handrail that lead upstairs.

Oliver nodded, before proceeding to open one the living room windows wide. The air that filled his lungs was a pleasure that had him groaning.

"Did you find your phone?" Ollie asked, looking over to Slade, who was opening the windows in the dinning room.

"Yes. But it's dead. I could hook it up to the mains but there's no electricity," the Aussie sighed as the breeze hit him.

Oliver clicked his fingers. "There's a box in the kitchen!"

Slade turned his head. He smirked at the huge smile on the kid's face.

"Lead the way."

Linelineline

Oliver took apart a blender, something Slade was rather surprised and impressed by. He had pat the kid's shoulder, saying that he could have fixed his radio back in the plane.

Slade detached the lead, and took out the wires, and after some work, managed form a steady current. He smiled when Oliver cheered as the phone came to life. He left it to charge, saying that the method was not quick acting, and there was a risk of getting a shock.

Slade slumped down onto the sofa, throwing an arm over the back and stared into the static. "Can't believe I have not seen a TV for a year."

Oliver was about to make a comment when he saw an VHS tape that sat on top on top of the open fireplace. He whipped away the dust, frowning at the writing on it. "Can you read this?" he asked, handing it to Slade.

"The characters for birthday and nineteen," he read, handing it back to Oliver.

"Yao Fei has kids?"

Slade nodded. "Mei and Shado."

"Shadow?"

"Sha-Doe."

Oliver looked down at the tape, the recording was half way through but he put in in anyway. It took a minuet to figure the right channel the TV needed to be on and how to get the player working. But eventually, a young woman appeared on the TV, she had long black hair and dark eyes; the curve of which showed her Asian decent. She was in a house, sat on a rug, looking up to the camera. The rug was the same one from the living room the two men were sat in.

"They're both in uni. Yao Fei's wife died years ago," Slade spoke as Oliver sat next to him. "Being a single father is hard."

Oliver sighed softly. Recalling when Slade spoke of his own son. "Doesn't look like they live at home. Or Yao Fei is not very good at cleaning."

"What would you know? I bet you had a maid."

Oliver did not meet the elder man's glaze.

Slade shook his head but could not help but chuckle.

Oliver ignored the man in favour of lowering his head to the back of the sofa. His eyelids fell shut at the warmth of Slade's arm on his scalp, muffled only by his think dirty blond hair. All of Ollie's energy was leaking right out of him, knowing that he could finally relax.

Being around Slade, thinking about him...was totally different from women he was used to. Thin waists, short skirts, long nails. Even if Oliver was taller, Slade was much wider, his body thick were firm, full muscles. His arms and legs were covered in long black hair. And the stumble covering his upper lip and jaw was prickly to the touch but becoming softer as his beard grew out. His calloused hands were strong and coarse against Oliver's skin, the feeling of which pooled heat in his stomach.

Slade was nothing like a woman in the slightest. And yet, Oliver liked it. Wide shoulders and a chiseled abdomen in exchanged for large perked breasts. Strong huge arms instead of a small soft body. It was totally different, yet he still felt the desire, just a little differently.

Slade's large hands on his body sent shivers up his spine. His kiss allowed Oliver to feel calm for the first time in months. His voice was deep and rough, making Oliver seemed down right in squeaky comparison. Slade expressed himself in short intervals, with his grumpy exterior, and a rather dark sense of humour seemed. In truth, Ollie never imagined himself with such a person. The attraction, the smiles that pulled at his lips, was so strange but good.

Oliver opened his eyes. For a fraction of a second, he thought he saw Thea as the daughter turned. Her dazzling blue eyes shocked his senses. He sucked a breath as she shimmered away from his vision. Like a dream as he awoke, the image was lucid but vanished instantly, and the memory of which faded faster than he could reach. Yet just slow enough to fuel is desperation.

He really missed her. Out of everyone, he thought of her the most. He would give anything to see her, hear her voice. But he could not. When he called Laurel, it was to apologise. He would never be able to forgive himself for what happened to Sara. He could not just go back. He owed Yao Fei his life.

Oliver forced a breath. Then swallowed before glancing up to Slade. Who was looking right at him. His expression still. Then his dark orbs slid back to the recording, as if he had not seen anything.

Oliver's eyes snapped back, and he swallowed again. He licked his lips. "When will you be able to use the phone? Call your people?"

Slade continued to watch the images on the screen.

Oliver looked over to the older man.

"I lied."

Oliver lifted a brow. "About?"

"I had many ways to contact ASIS. I could have got in contact sooner but," he sighed, he ran a hand though his hair, gripping the tips. "I did not."

Ollie blinked. "Why?" He frowned.

Slade did not tare his eyes from the screen. He had always known Yao Fei with long hair, minus his military pictures. "Fyers may have already disbanded his forces, or worse, stayed in place. Meaning he has something planned. ASIS will call an air strike, knowing the matter will not cause an international incident. No question."

"They would do that?"

Slade's eyes flickered back. "I told you I would have to make the call."

Oliver sighed. "Yeah. You did," he glanced to Yao Fei. His arms around a pair of teenage girls. Identical teenage girls.

Since the pair had got on that plane, Oliver had not asked about the Island coming under attack. Maybe he thought Slade had changed his mind, or Ollie just did not want to think about the possibility. Keep moving forward. Get to safety. Protect Slade.

"I have contacts that can get me there. You need to go home."

Oliver could not believe what he was hearing.

"No," he shook his head. "You can't go back there alone."

"I would have a better chance alone," Slade leered. "You can't shoot or fight."

"Didn't I save you?"

Slade raised a brow. "And if we had still been on the island?"

Ollie thought for a few seconds before lifting his chin. "Yao Fei had this plant. It stopped an injury I had from getting infected."

The agent huffed. "You wouldn't last an hour out there."

"Then I would be forty five minutes."

Slade cracked a smile with a soft snort.

"Surviving was impressive, but you have no training-"

"You could teach me."

"-And if something happened to me; you'd be screwed."

"Are you planning on running into their camp head first?" Oliver crossed his arms.

Slade shrugged. "Not if I can help it," he set his cheek to the back of the sofa. "You've never been shot. And if you got caught, there would use you to get to me. You would talk and then you would die."

Ollie shook his head. "I wouldn't," he mumbled.

"You're human. I would in your place."

Oliver displeased look returned, and he sat up, one leg folded under him. "No you would not. And neither would I."

"Kid. You would be tortured ."

"I wouldn't talk," Oliver snapped.

Slade paused. He half expected Oliver to stomp away, but no, he stayed right were he was. Blue eyes seeming green under the limited light leaching in through the filthy windows. His eyes firmly set on Slade's dark brown. For the first time since they had met, his eyes held something another than dread and anxiety. They were cold, his expression firm. The strength Slade always wondered about, hidden away in the lanky bundle of nerves. It was right there. Something he had only seen a mere flash of, before he was struck in the face. It was quickly replaced by fear for his actions.

"How do you know?"

"I didn't," Oliver finally spoke. His chest raising and falling with pants.

There it was.

Slade closed his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose as he stood. The rage he felt was almost uncontrollable. He needed to kill Fryers, he would. He just hoped that the kid was over-exaggerating. That what he saw was not what he thought it was.

"Was that your injury?"

"No," Ollie exhaled. He turned back to the TV. "Yao Fei shot me with an arrow while I was burying my father."

"Fuck," Slade mumbled. He paused when he heard boots thumping against the wooden floorboards. Oliver bolted from the room. The sound of the front door slamming open, followed by vomiting.

The silence that came after was painful.


End file.
